Pieces of Happiness
by Silverhare
Summary: Stories written for Fakiru Week 2013.
1. Chapter 1

The picnic had been Ahiru's idea. They were a favored date activity of hers, after all, ever since she'd seen Rue and Mytho go on one. This time, however, she'd gotten it in her head that an evening picnic would be fun and romantic. Fakir had been slightly skeptical at first, but had inevitably agreed to it after a little persuasion, because Ahiru was nothing if not irresistible. So he'd bought some candles and they'd made their plans, and here they were at last.

They left the house just as the sun was finally setting; it hung low in a sky streaked with vivid shades of amber and scarlet that seemed to foreshadow the autumn foliage they would be seeing before too much longer. Summer still had a firm enough hold that it was a warm evening, however, and the encroaching darkness brought no chill with it. Fakir carried the basket laden with food and drink and candles, while Ahiru bounced along happily beside him with their duck-patterned blanket draped over her arms. The dying sunlight sparkled faintly on the surface of the lake when they emerged from the trees, and Ahiru stopped to stare at it for a moment before hurrying to catch up to Fakir.

"I'm not sure if I like sunsets or not," she remarked as he helped her spread the blanket on the grass. "They're really pretty, but they're also kinda sad in a way, you know? But then nighttime is really pretty too cause you get to see the moon and all the stars and everything. I kind of wish there was a duck constellation, though. I know there's that wild duck cluster cause I looked it up in a book, but that's not a constellation, so it isn't the same thing."

"Make one up, then." Fakir began to switch on the little flameless candles they'd bought, and set them around the blanket. It was the safest way to get the effect they wanted – they could shed flickering golden light on the both of them without the risk of starting a fire if Ahiru accidentally knocked one over. "Pick stars that fit together in the right shape and call it what you like."

"Can I really do that?" Ahiru knelt and began to unpack the food from the basket. "I mean, nobody'll know about it but us and it kinda feels weird to do it."

"Why? That's how the ones people recognize came about – they assigned characters and stories to the way the stars they saw in the sky were arranged. They won't even last forever, because the stars we see today will someday go out, and new ones will have been birthed elsewhere." Fakir shrugged and sat down on the blanket. "So find your little duck, and it'll be all yours."

"Will you make up a story about it for me when I do?" Ahiru asked as she arranged food on their plates. They'd brought cheese sandwiches, hot roasted potatoes wrapped in foil, Ahiru's favorite beet salad, and some sugar cookies for dessert, as well as bottles of lemonade to wash it all down with. Fakir had made all of it save for the cookies, which Ahiru had insisted on baking as a way to help. They were slightly overdone, but Fakir had told her it was fine, as he preferred crunchier cookies anyway. "It'd be more complete like that, like the real ones."

"I'll tell you one for it right now." Fakir stared up at the sky, where some of the first stars were beginning to emerge as day faded into night. "Once upon a time, there was a brave little duck, who transformed into a human girl and fought to save her hometown from an evil wizard. She was small and weak, but also kind and courageous, and her perseverance paid off in the end. The town was saved, thanks to her tireless efforts, and she was its heroine."

"Fakir…" Ahiru whispered, a smile and a blush growing on her face.

"Afterwards, however, she returned to being a duck, having lost the ability to change her shape, and no one remembered her valor, save for one person: a writer who could spin his words into truth and reshape reality." Fakir took a few bites of the food Ahiru had placed on his plate and swallowed them down before continuing. "The writer deeply loved the little duck, and mourned bitterly that the townspeople knew nothing of their savior. He felt it unfair to her and all that she had accomplished. So he took up his pen and rearranged some of the very stars in the sky to resemble her form, in hopes that those who gazed upon the new constellation might feel a stirring at the corner of their memories. In time, those stirrings might give way to tales and legends, and thus preserve her story even beyond the shadows of it that he wove into his own works."

"Oh, Fakir, that's beautiful!" Ahiru beamed at him, and in the candlelight he could just barely see the blush on her cheeks. "I – I don't know if I really deserve to be a constellation or anything, but that was so pretty!"

He could think of a thousand supposed heroes from various myths that deserved it less than she did. "Thanks. It was really only something I came up with off the top of my head, though." Fakir focused his attention on his food again, hoping to hide the faint blush he thought he could feel creeping across his own face. "If I sat down and took my time over it, it'd be much better."

"I really like it as it is, but if you ever do write it down, I'd love to read it," Ahiru said shyly as she picked up her fork and began to dig into her own food. "You always write such wonderful stories."

Now he was definitely blushing. "Th-thanks."

They ate mostly in silence after that, punctuated only by the occasional comment by Ahiru complimenting Fakir's cooking, or talking about what a pretty evening it was and how much fun she was having. A little bit of gentle teasing and prodding got Fakir to admit that he was enjoying himself too despite having been initially skeptical about the idea. He playfully drew out his feigned reticence so as to seem reluctant to say so, but was more than happy to let Ahiru have her victory, and couldn't help but smile at her as she basked in her joy over having come up with something that was fun for the both of them.

By the time they finished their cookies and drained the last of the lemonade from the bottles, night had completely fallen and wiped away all traces of the day. Countless stars were visible now, twinkling merrily in the dark sky, and wispy grey patches of cloud slid aside to reveal a gleaming full moon. Closer to the ground, tiny, flickering golden lights began to appear amongst the trees and then flew towards the lake, spreading their gentle glow in all directions as they flitted out to explore their surroundings.

"Oh!" Ahiru clapped her hands together as she saw the fireflies soaring around them. "I – I was hoping they'd come out!" She rummaged around in their picnic basket and produced an empty jar she'd hidden away at the bottom. "I want to catch some!" She bounded up and ran off across the grass, unscrewing the lid as she went and miraculously not kicking over any candles. The yellow ribbons she'd woven into her braided updo to match the sunflowers on her dress streamed behind her as she ran, and Fakir watched her for a moment before getting up and following her.

He caught up to her just as she tripped over a rock and fell, sending her jar flying onto the ground. He managed to catch her in his arms before she joined it on the grass, and helped her stand up straight. "Are you all right? You shouldn't run around like that in the dark, idiot – you can't see where you're going." Not that that prevented her from tripping in full daylight, either, but it was especially hazardous at night.

Ahiru shook her head, and he felt a brief stab of worry that she'd gotten hurt before she spoke. "N-no. It – it's not working. I can't catch any!" Her lower lip trembled, and in the faint light of the moon he could see tears in her eyes. "I – I wanted to catch some in the jar and bring them home and they could light up at night in the window and look all pr-pretty, but it's so hard to catch them. I don't think I can do it."

"Shhhh. It's all right." Fakir wiped at her cheeks as some of the tears leaked out. "You couldn't have kept them forever, anyway – you'd have had to let them out in a couple days or they would have died. They're better off here." He couldn't help picturing Ahiru standing on her toes in their kitchen, though, a delighted expression on her face as she watched fireflies flitting around in a jar on the windowsill as dusk fell, and something sparked at the back of his memory.

"Oh." Ahiru blinked several times, freeing some more tears to drip onto her face. "I – I didn't think about that, I didn't know I'd have to do that. That would be sad if they died and didn't get to come back here."

"See? They're happier this way." He bent and kissed her forehead. "If you really want to bring some home for a day or so, though, we'll get a net and come back here tomorrow night. They'll be easier to catch that way."

"O-okay." Ahiru smiled up at him. "Lemme get my jar, then, and then I – I kinda want to go sit on the dock, is that okay?"

"Of course." If he was remembering right, he still had an old net for catching bugs packed away with his toys somewhere. It had been designed for children to use, but Ahiru's hands were so small that it would work just fine. "We'll find it together and then go to the dock."

He kissed her again, but on her mouth this time, and she tasted some of the sugar from the cookies on his lips. They lingered there for a moment, just kissing, and then after that he helped her find both jar and lid in the grass. They returned it to the picnic basket, Fakir thinking all the while about which box his old net was likely to be in, along with the rest of the things they'd brought. Once they'd packed everything up, Ahiru led the way to the dock where they had so often come before her return to humanity so that she could swim in the water while he sat and wrote stories. She took off her shoes before sitting on the edge, letting her bare feet brush the surface of the water. It was nice and cool, and felt good on her toes. Fakir removed his shoes as well, and rolled up his pants so that they wouldn't get wet before sitting down beside her. He put his arm around her, and she let out a happy little sigh as she leaned into him.

"It's so pretty," Ahiru murmured, her eyes on where the full moon cast a pale, pearlescent sheen on the lake's calm surface. "The water looks so different at night, and it kinda seems quieter too, or – or magical. Like a fairy lake or something."

"A fairy lake, where magic ducks live." He nuzzled the top of her head. "Sounds like a good story."

Ahiru giggled. "Are you going to write that?"

"Maybe." Fakir stared thoughtfully out at the lake. "I don't know if it would be its own story, or if it would be the origin of the duck in the constellation story."

"But that was a true story, I thought. Well, except for the rearranging stars part."

"A true story with embellishments, yes… and no one but us would know it's true, anyway." His gaze moved upwards, to the star-laden sky. "It might make a good fairy tale once you've found your duck."

"Do you think I will?"

"I don't see why not." Fakir shrugged. "There are so many stars out there that you're bound to find something you can say is a duck constellation."

"I hope so." Ahiru snuggled closer to him. "I'm not so good at spotting the real ones, so it might be hard for me."

"I can help you, if you want. I used to have a hard time with it too, but it gets easier when you know what you're looking for."

"Really?" She peered up at him. "Are – are there any we can see right now?"

"Yeah. Here, I'll show you," he said, reaching over with his free hand to take one of hers. He curled her tiny fingers down, all except for her index finger, which he used to point at a particular star. "See that? That's Vega. It's the brightest star in Lyra, the harp. Which is shaped like this." He traced lines with her finger from star to star to show her the shape of the constellation. "Do you see it now?"

"Yes!" Ahiru beamed, and he smiled fondly down at her. "Are there any others?"

"Mmmhmm." He nodded. "Over here." He directed her finger to another star a bit lower in the sky. "That's Altair, and it's the brightest star in Aquila, the eagle." He traced the shape of that one too. "And over here…" He pointed to another star. "Is Deneb, the brightest star in Cygnus, the swan." He showed her each star in that one, and then laid their hands down on his lap and twined his fingers through hers. "We'll be able to get a good look at different ones every month, so we should keep coming back here at night if you want to see them all."

"Oh, I do!" Ahiru kicked at the water excitedly, sending up little splashes that seemed to sparkle in the starlight. "Can we? That sounds really fun! I mean I know we'll have to bundle up when it gets cold but we can bring hot stuff to drink and keep each other warm and I like that too."

"Of course." He squeezed her hand. "And we'll keep looking for your duck, too, because there's no way of knowing what season it shows up in."

"Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!" She tugged on his hand and brought it to her lips so that she could press a tender kiss to it. "Y-you know, if – if I ever really _did_ become a constellation for real, I'd want you to be up there with me, right next to me. I couldn't bear it if we were separated like that."

"Don't worry." Fakir squeezed her hand. "Even if that happened, I'd come find you. I'd search in all the galaxies and ask every other constellation if they'd seen you, and I wouldn't give up until I was by your side again."

In other words, he really would rearrange the stars for her. Ahiru found herself blinking back tears as she realized it. She couldn't stop herself from smiling at the same time, though. "A-and then people would see us together, and they'd make up stories about us."

Fakir kissed her hand. "Do you want me to put that into the story about the duck constellation?"

"Yes, please." Ahiru nodded. "And – and don't forget to include that the duck loved the writer too, cause you forgot that part earlier, and that she was really happy when he came and found her, and it made her shine even brighter."

"Her stars shone like gold in the night sky, echoing her earthly feathers, because her joy at being reunited with her true love was so great." Fakir looked down at her. "Is – is that okay?" She could see him starting to blush. "I mean, I'll refine it when I write it down, and if you don't like it, I'll –"

Ahiru interrupted him by kissing him on the cheek. "It's perfect."


	2. Chapter 2

**Entry #2 - Mistake**

Making Ahiru human again had not been a quick and easy process, nor had the decision to try been one swiftly arrived at.

First of all, it had had to occur to him in the first place. That had taken time. He'd meant what he said to her beneath the lake, after all, and his powers were something he didn't feel in complete control of, so making the leap to the idea of transforming her with his writing had been anything but immediate.

As time went on, however, something began to bother him. He wasn't sure what until he saw her with the other ducks at the lake one day and how her behavior differed from theirs. For the first time, he thought, he _really_ thought, about how unlike a duck she was in everything but form. She understood what he said to her, she read things, she tried to dance and to communicate. He also caught her more than once looking longingly at the Academy, at people they passed on the way to or from the lake who were students there. Moreover, she wasn't aging like a duck – according to all the books, she should've lost her duckling fluff and gotten her adult feathers in already, but she hadn't. That, combined with her human behavior, made him start to wonder if she was truly content and if there was something he could do for her. The last thing he wanted was for her to be unhappy, after all. At last, the idea had come to him one afternoon while sitting at his desk at home, when he was supposed to be working on a story for his writing class. Instead, he was looking at Ahiru as she napped on the windowsill and thinking about what he could do to help her be happy, and the sight of the pen in his hand when he sighed and glanced down with the intent to resume work made it all click in his brain.

After the initial rush of excitement over the sudden inspiration passed, he'd had to give serious thought as to _why_ he wanted to do it. There were selfish reasons of course, like wanting to hear her voice again, or see her smile, or to be able to dance with her once more, but those couldn't be the only reasons or it would be wrong to transform her. It would make him as bad as Drosselmeyer, and the last thing Fakir wanted was to become like Drosselmeyer. No, his intentions had to be primarily pure and unselfish. It was true that they were no longer living in a fairy tale, but when it came to using powers like these, it made sense to abide by fairy tale rules. Otherwise, he risked harming her, and that was the last thing he wanted.

In the end he was able to determine that his desire to do this for her was just that: for her, and not for himself. As much as he missed things about her human form, he found that he cared more that _she_ probably missed the things she'd been able to do while in it, if those looks he'd seen her directing towards the Academy and her former classmates were any indication (and weren't just his imagination). He knew that when she'd been struggling to remove the pendant, it had been because of a fear of being left alone, of losing all the things she'd come to cherish about her life as a human girl. Ordinary, mundane things like learning ballet and going to school and being with her friends. If she still wanted all those things for herself, then he wanted them for her, and felt she deserved to have them. And besides, he knew she didn't feel the same way about him that he did about her, and he didn't expect her to, so it wasn't about that either. He wasn't after some kind of reward, he really did just want her to be happy. His desire for her happiness superseded all else; realizing that eased his mind enough for him to begin thinking about how and when to broach the subject with her.

Because there was no way that he would, or should, do this without making absolutely certain that it really was what she wanted. That wouldn't be fair or right either. If she had settled into her life as a duck and wanted to remain that way, if she no longer desired the trappings of humanity, then he would respect that and not take it away from her. It was her body that was going to change, so it had to be her choice. At the same time, the fact that she hadn't asked him about it wasn't an indicator either way about her feelings on the matter, so he also couldn't assume that that meant she didn't want to be human again. Ahiru… was selfless almost to a fault, and tended to put everyone else's wishes above her own. She had sunk into despair – literally – over finally wanting something for herself for once. Moreover, she knew about his history with his powers and his mixed feelings about them. If she still wanted to return to human form, she was unlikely to ask him to do it out of both her selflessness and her knowledge and understanding of his past. He would have to be the one to bring it up.

It was early one evening when they finally discussed it, just after dinner. Ahiru had noticed that something seemed to be weighing on his mind of late, and that night finally nudged him with a questioning look in her eyes when she saw him drifting off into his own little world again. Fakir's first instinct was to tell her it was nothing, that he was just thinking about another story to write, because he wasn't sure that this was the right time. He realized, though, that if he kept thinking that way the "right time" might never come along. So he pushed past his remaining anxieties on the matter as best he could, drew a deep breath, and began to explain his offer to her as he used his pen to open up the mental connection between them. It wasn't the best explanation, and he frequently stumbled over his words and had to backtrack to better clarify himself. But in the end he managed to get his intentions across well enough to be understood, and fell silent as he waited for her answer.

She was quiet at first, and then hesitantly admitted that yes, she _did_ still think about the friends she had lost and the school she had attended, the pointe shoes she had never gotten. He prodded her a little – did she still want those things? Or was it simply wistful remembrances, and she was fine living out her life the way it was now? She hemmed and hawed over the questions, and it took more prodding before she finally confessed that yes, she did still long to study ballet with her friends, and get her pointe shoes, and do all the normal human things that everyone she knew did. She qualified it with more than one _but_, though: she didn't want to be selfish, she didn't want to ask for too much after what they'd agreed about going back to their true selves. She didn't want to ask him to do something like that for her because she knew how he felt about using his powers and that would be such a greedy thing to do, because while it was one thing to ask him to use them to save the town, it was quite another to ask him to use them for something that would benefit her alone and she didn't feel right doing that. It was all exactly as he'd guessed it might be.

Fakir waited until she seemed to be done with her babbling to speak again. Yes, he told her, yes, he was still nervous about using his powers. There was no point in denying it. But if she truly did want to be human again, then he was more than willing to set aside his fears and try for her, because she deserved it after all that she'd done for everyone else. She protested that she didn't need anything in return for what she had done for the town and the prince, that she had done it all for their sakes and not because she wanted something for herself from it. Yes, he knew that, he told her. And it was selfish, she said, to want that for herself, especially when this was her true form and she'd agreed to return to it. She couldn't ask for that, particularly not when getting her human form back required him to do something she knew had been the source of so much pain in his life. It just wasn't right of her to want that for herself.

Forget right or wrong, he said; do you want it or not? I'm not going to pressure you into doing something you don't want to do, but I need to know for sure either way, and if you do really want it you shouldn't give up on it or talk yourself out of it for stupid reasons. She tried again to demur, and he had to do yet more prodding to get her to admit that yes, she did want to be a girl again. She started to qualify it with another _but_, and he interrupted her to say that that was all she needed to say: that she truly wanted it. Because it was okay to want things for herself, it didn't make her selfish, or at least no more selfish than the rest of the human race. Everyone wanted things for themselves, and that was natural and normal. It was part of the human experience. And anyway, he'd already told her that he was fine with using his powers to try and give her human life back to her, so she shouldn't worry about that. He wouldn't have offered it to her in the first place if he was uncomfortable or unwilling to do it for her, after all. If it made her feel better, he added, she could think of it not as a reward for what she did, but as one last act of defiance against Drosselmeyer, who'd given her humanity with the intention all along of taking it away, purely to make her suffer for the sake of his precious tragedy. He'd taken so much from her in pursuit of that; it was all right for her to want some of it back. She'd risked her life to give everyone else a happy ending, and now it was time for her to decide what would constitute _her_ happy ending. And whatever she chose, he assured her, he'd support her and would continue to stay by her side either way.

That seemed to do the trick, for the most part – she was still hesitant, but it only took a tiny bit of prodding for her to come clean about her true feelings. Yes, she said, yes, I do still want those things, so much. I want to study ballet and get my pointe shoes and be friends with Pike and Lilie again, and do all the things a human girl can do. She still didn't feel right about asking him to do that for her, but if he was really sure, then she'd be happy to accept his offer. Maybe it wasn't her true self, and maybe it was a betrayal of what they'd agreed to do in order to end the story, but it didn't stop her wanting those things. She was ashamed of it, but couldn't deny that it was what she longed for.

This time, it was Fakir's turn to be quiet for a moment as he pondered something. Ahiru wondered at his silence, and when he spoke again, it seemed as much to be thinking aloud as it was talking to her. Had she ever, he asked, been an ordinary duck? Had that ever really been the case? What did she remember about her life before Drosselmeyer had pulled her into the story, forced the role of Princess Tutu onto her? Not much, she told him. Her memories of those days were hazy and indistinct, formless shadows in the mist. However, she was fairly certain of the fact that she had always, or nearly always, been able to think and form thoughts the way she did now, in a human way. It had been strange, she said, to return to the lake after the story's end and meet other ducks, and find that their thought processes were much simpler than hers, that they weren't capable of feeling as she did, to see that they were aging faster than she was. She had worried at first that her ability to think and feel like a human was something Drosselmeyer had done to her and that it would fade away in time, leaving her with no memory of her experiences as a human girl or of Fakir. The idea of that happening had scared her. But as more and more time passed and she experienced no loss of memory or emotion, and continued to be able to think as clearly as ever, her fears calmed and she realized that this was how she'd always been and would always be. She didn't know why, but she wasn't inclined to question it, in case that made it go away. Weren't there fairy tales where someone got too curious and looked at something they shouldn't have and suffered for it, after all? She didn't want that to happen to her too.

That made sense, he told her, before she could inquire as to whether or not he thought that was superstitious and silly. He had briefly entertained anxieties about the same thing, but had soothed the fear by reminding himself that if it was going to happen, it would've taken effect immediately after the story's end. And if she really had always been like this, he continued, a duck with the heart of a human girl, then it wasn't a betrayal of what they'd agreed to do to end the story. She tilted her little feathered head at that and asked: how so? He explained: her being a duck with a human heart meant that what her "true self" was, was not as clear-cut as being the body she had been born into. Furthermore, she hadn't made the choice herself to be born as a duck. Hadn't they put their lives on the line so that everyone else could choose how to live theirs? Why shouldn't she have a choice as to how to live hers? And look at Rue – she had fought against an identity imposed on her nearly since her birth, and decided that the real her was indeed Rue, the identity she had created for herself. Didn't Ahiru deserve to have the same chance, if she wanted it? Her dual nature meant that she could live in either world and still be true to herself, as long as it was her heart's true desire. And he reiterated again that he was willing to do whatever he could do to help her find her happiness, whatever form it came in.

Then my answer is yes, she said, and there was something shy about her tone. Yes, please… if it's really okay, then please, do this for me, Fakir. It would make me happy. She started to say that it would be all right if he changed his mind, she would understand if he really wasn't comfortable after all because it wasn't as if she _hated_ living like this, with him, but she abruptly fell silent when he smiled at her and rubbed her head. He wasn't, he told her, going to lie and say that he was free of fear about the process. But he was more than willing to stand up to that fear and try to do this for her sake, because it was what she really wanted. He'd sworn to stay by her side forever, and not only did he intend to keep that promise, but he had always meant for it to encompass supporting her and her wishes in any way he could. This was part of it.

She got a little teary-eyed at that, and thanked him profusely while saying that she didn't deserve such kindness. So he held her close and stroked her feathers and assured her that yes, she did. And when her tears were dry, he smiled at her and said that it was getting late, so did she want him to read the next chapter of the book they were reading now? She nodded, and he set her down to wait while he changed into sleep clothes before settling down on his bed with her cradled in one arm and the book in his other hand.

The decision had thus been made, with both of them certain that this was what Ahiru wanted, and that Fakir was willing to attempt it for her sake. However, even then, it wasn't as easy as simply putting pen to paper and voila, Ahiru was a human girl again. Fakir knew better than anyone how badly things could go wrong if he used his powers carelessly. Even in normal writing, it was important to choose your words carefully, lest your meaning not be properly conveyed and the message lost; when trying to alter reality with your words, it was all the more vital. He was fully aware of the fact that it could very well _literally_ be a matter of life and death if he wasn't conscientious of this and took care to get it right. Getting it wrong didn't just mean that a hypothetical audience would be confused by a particular passage. It meant terrible repercussions for Ahiru. Therefore, he _needed_ to put serious thought and planning into how to write this well before he ever picked up a quill.

He set about doing that with the intent to think calmly and carefully about how he would accomplish the transformation. And at first, he did. But as time went on his fears crept up on him more and more, and his mind began to spin all kinds of horrible scenarios about the many ways it could go wrong if he made the slightest error in his writing. He tried to fight it off, but eventually the fear he felt during his daytime brainstorming sessions seeped into his sleep at night and he starting having nightmares about the myriad possible ways that he could cause real damage to Ahiru if he made even one mistake in his writing.

It didn't take Ahiru long to notice that something was wrong, though, and she prodded him to confide in her about whatever it was. He opened up to her about the nightmares and the worries reluctantly, concerned deep down that speaking of what he had been going through would cause her to rescind her agreement to this, once again sacrificing her chance at happiness for someone else's sake. And Ahiru did indeed try to offer to change her mind, saying that she didn't want him to suffer like this on her account and that if he really wasn't comfortable at all, he shouldn't push himself to do this for her. He started to protest, to insist that he simply needed to get through this and that he really did want to do it for her, but she interrupted him and kept talking.

It's all right, she said, if you're not comfortable trying this for me. I understand. But if you're really sure you want to, if it's really okay, then there's something I need you to understand: I'm not afraid. Even if it doesn't work or if you accidentally turn me into something unexpected, I'll be okay and I won't be mad at you. I'm not afraid of that, though, because I believe in you. And I know that even if you somehow do mess up and make me into something weird, you'll still stay by my side no matter what. Won't you?

Of course I will, he told her, nodding. You never have to worry about that. She replied that that meant, then, that_ he_ had nothing to worry about, because whatever happened, she would be okay. They would be okay. They'd still have each other, and that was all that mattered.

He had to concede that she was right, and it calmed his fears enough that he began to feel ready to make his attempt. He was still as cautious as he could be, though, and refused to let himself ease up and thus possibly make mistakes. He practiced with smaller things, to see if he could do it successfully. He labored over every word of the story that would hopefully restore Ahiru's human form to her, second-guessing every choice and never once feeling fully confident in his skills as he slowly, slowly inched towards the end. But bit by bit it came together, and with a trembling hand he wrote the final words and deemed it as, for better or worse, finished.

All the fears that had plagued him came to naught in the end, much to his relief. Ahiru's transformation was smooth, painless, and without flaw, and Ahiru herself was overjoyed, as was he. It almost seemed too good to be true though, and beneath the joy he harbored fears that it would all turn out to be a dream, or that something would soon go wrong. But when they awoke the next morning, she was still in human form and looked and felt exactly as she should. As the days passed and no complications reared their ugly heads, he began to finally relax, and took pleasure in the delight she felt and freely expressed given half the chance.

The transition back into actually living as a human was less smooth, however. His foster father was happy to have her live with them in one of the spare bedrooms, so that wasn't an issue, at least, but she also needed to have her own clothes, and other necessities, and voiced no small amount of guilt over the fact that she had no money to pay for them herself and had to depend on them for such things. Then there was the matter of enrolling at the Academy: she had to if she was going to resume her study of ballet, but it would be trickier now without Drosselmeyer manipulating reality to insert her into the student body. Fakir was forced to write into existence the essential documents that she lacked – such as a birth certificate – in order for her to be admitted. It was a dishonest and frankly risky thing to do, legally, but in the end they passed muster and she was soon attending classes once again, as she had so yearned to do.

That wasn't the end of her difficulties, though. Ahiru was smart, if scatterbrained, and without the pressing matter of saving the prince and the town to distract her, she actually had time to study and put effort into her schoolwork and dancing, which she did enthusiastically. She was eager to make up for lost time and to discover what she could be good at if she tried, and to try and figure out what her other interests were. But she hadn't had the experience of growing up as a human, and so there were inevitably gaps in her knowledge on all sorts of things. Not just on her subjects in school, but in smaller things like local traditions and lore, various human customs, all sorts of things that were common knowledge to everyone except her. Moreover, Ahiru had always been an awkward, clumsy girl, always tripping over her own feet and walking into walls, prone to babbling and stammering and saying odd things when she was nervous. She often lacked a filter, and even now still quacked sometimes when she was surprised (though no reversion to duck form accompanied it anymore, thankfully). His story to transform her hadn't changed any of that, and he would never have wanted to: all those quirks were things he secretly found adorable about her (though he would never say so aloud). It was all part of what made her uniquely _Ahiru_, and he loved her exactly the way she was, with no desire to change her. The very things that endeared her to him made her a target, though, for the cruel words and actions of unkind Academy students, who jeered and laughed at her and treated her like the school oddball. Even her so-called friend Lilie didn't treat her much better, and filled her ears with damaging assertions about her. Why Ahiru had gone to so much trouble to reforge her friendship with her and Pike – particularly when it had been an artificial bond imposed on all of them by one of Drosselmeyer's whims – he couldn't understand, and one day he'd voiced that confusion. Ahiru had explained that they were important to her, that even though their friendship had started out as fake it had become real to her by the end, and she also felt like they maybe kinda remembered her deep down, because they'd accepted her into their dynamic right away upon her return to the school, whereas everyone else already had their own set groups that seemed hard, if not impossible, for her to find a place in. She added that she knew that probably sounded like settling and maybe it was, but she couldn't help but care about them and miss the times they'd had together during the story. It was painful not to be able to talk about her memories of those days with them, but she still couldn't give up on being friends with them and she thought it would be worse if she didn't try and had to think about those times by herself while watching them from afar. He interrupted her statement about how he probably didn't understand that to say that no, he did understand, he just hoped she wouldn't let the things Lilie said get to her. She said she'd try not to, that she knew Lilie could be kind of weird sometimes, and she just accepted her for who she was. That ended the discussion, because he was certainly not going to argue against the forgiving, accepting nature that had allowed them to start being friends in the first place. Privately he still wished that she would find friends that treated her better, but it was her choice in the end and he'd respect it, and would support her by doing his best to counteract whatever dangerous nonsense Lilie tried to put in her head.

At the same time, even having friends she valued didn't make it any less difficult to deal with the other students; it wasn't a constant barrage of bullying, but there were days when she came home so dejected that Fakir wondered if they hadn't made a mistake after all. It wasn't fair, perhaps, to place all the blame on himself for the troubles Ahiru had, but he did anyway. It had been his power, after all, that had transformed her, giving her the ability to do the things she had missed doing but also making her life much more complicated than a duck's ever could be. In addition, he was uncomfortably aware of the fact that some of the poor treatment she faced came from immature and unkind girls who, for whatever reason, seemed to idolize him, and thus were jealous of the newcomer who spent so much time with him. There was nothing he could do about that, of course, since he couldn't control how other people felt, and the cold, standoffish demeanor he kept up while in school had so far done nothing to discourage any of them from fawning over him. It didn't stop him from wallowing in guilt, though, or prevent fears that he had transformed her out of selfishness from resurfacing.

As with the nightmares, it didn't take Ahiru long to realize that something was bothering Fakir. She gently coaxed him into confessing the guilt and anxiety he felt over the difficulties she was having, admitting that he wondered if they'd made a mistake, and talking about how he felt like he was to blame for all the things she'd been enduring lately. If she regretted the transformation, he was willing to turn her back; whatever she wanted, whatever would make her happy, he'd do without hesitation.

I am happy, though, she told him. I don't regret the transformation, not at all. It was hard, sometimes, but that was just part of life as a human. She hadn't expected everything to be easy, she knew that even people who had been born into human bodies suffered a lot of difficulties and setbacks and pain, and had problems and worries all their own. She hadn't thought she'd be any different in that regard. Being human again meant that she had to accept and embrace the good with the bad, just like how, for Mytho, getting his heart back had meant accepting and embracing negative emotions along with the positive ones. She'd been prepared for all this from the moment she'd accepted Fakir's offer. And none of it, not one bit, was Fakir's fault. If there was one thing she insisted on more than anything else in that discussion, it was that he believe that and stop blaming himself. She was going to live her life as best she could, just like every other human in the world, which meant dealing with both good and bad things, and he couldn't protect her from all the bad things and shouldn't try to. Not only that, but it was okay for him not to, and it didn't make him a bad friend or anything.

He wanted to say something to that, but his train of thought was fatally derailed by noticing the slight stammer in her voice when she said the word "friend", not to mention the tiny hint of a blush on her cheeks. Distracted by that odd behavior, he'd simply mumbled his assent when she asked him to promise not to feel guilty about any problems she had, most of his mind elsewhere. He was _sure_ it couldn't possibly be an indicator of romantic feelings for him on her part, but he still couldn't get it out of his mind, and couldn't help but watch closely for more such moments. He was able to pass off most of the signs he saw from her as wishful thinking or merely his imagination, and he tried not to get his hopes up, but eventually there was too much to ignore. So at last, he decided one day to speak the words he'd hidden away within his heart for so long. He only hoped it wasn't a mistake and that he wasn't misreading her.

I love you, he told her. He didn't think he'd ever been so scared of anything in his life prior to that moment.

And then fear turned to joy as Ahiru's face lit up, her momentary shock melting away into blinding happiness. I love you too, she said, her eyes sparkling with happy tears. She threw her arms around him, and told him how truly happy he made her, and how she wouldn't ever, ever trade the life she'd been given for anything else, because now that she was human they could do things that other couples did, and maybe that was selfish, but for once she felt okay about it because she was just so so happy. She would have babbled more in her excitement, but she was impatient to finally kiss him, and he wanted to finally kiss her, and so they did, bumping noses at first in their awkward haste but eventually finding their way to each other's mouths.

They'd each made a lot of mistakes in their lives, and would continue to do so as the years went on. It was part of being human, after all. But this moment, and the decision for Ahiru to _become_ human that had led to it, were not among them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Entry #3 - Modern**

Rain drizzled steadily down the outside of the windows; on the inside, smiling cloth ghosts and grinning plastic pumpkins decorated the sills, staring cheerfully at all passersby. Some of the ghosts were misshapen, while others had lopsided eyes or smiles, giving away that they had been crafted by an inexperienced person, but that somehow made them seem more appealing. At least, they were to Fakir, who paused outside the door for just a moment to smile at them before turning the key in the latch and entering the home he shared with the person who'd made them.

"Hi, Fakir!" He'd barely gotten in the door before hearing Ahiru's little feet hurrying in his direction. She beamed up at him from beneath the brim of a rumpled witch's hat sitting slightly askew on her head. "How did the meeting go?"

Fakir shrugged. "Fairly well." He closed his umbrella and hung it beside Ahiru's familiar duck one before shrugging his coat off and hanging that up as well. "I managed to get an extension on the deadline for the next draft, so that's good. All the same, though, I'm glad to be home." He took hold of her wrist and gently tugged her close. She had an apron on over her dress, and a smudge of something on the tip of her nose, and it smelled like she'd been baking.

Ahiru giggled as he kissed her cheek. "I'm glad you're back too, and that it went well. I've been decorating!"

"I noticed." He touched the little smudge on her nose. "And baking, too – what did you make?"

"Cookies!" She pulled on his hand and led him to the kitchen. "I made chocolate chip ones cause they're your favorite and I tried to decorate them with some frosting too so they could be Halloween cookies, I hope they came out okay, you know how I still sometimes mess things up when I'm on my own but I was really really careful and read the recipe a bunch of times and I already cleaned up. See?"

She had indeed already managed the cleanup from the cookie-baking. Mostly. There was still some flour on the counter and the floor, and he could see some tiny patches of spilled sugar, but he didn't care. The cookies themselves were arranged on racks to cool, and looked properly baked and not burned, at least, so that was a good sign.

"I'll taste-test, then," Fakir said, and plucked one from the racks to try. It was always an act of bravery to try Ahiru's food when she'd prepared it by herself, because she still sometimes messed up some key step or left out an important ingredient, or over or undercooked things. He looked down at the messily done frosting that adorned the cookie before taking a bite, and was rewarded for his courage: the frosting was sweet enough in combination with the chocolate that even he wouldn't be able to eat too many at one time, but overall they were good. He nodded at her as she watched him anxiously. "They're good. You did fine," he said once he'd swallowed the first bite.

"Really? Oh, I'm so glad!" Ahiru clasped her hands together and smiled up at him. "Thank you! And oh! I can't believe I almost forgot, I'm so sorry! It came!" She rushed over to the kitchen table and held up a rectangular package. "It's your book! It finally got here!"

"Oh?" Fakir tried not to show the excitement mixed with nervousness that he always felt whenever an advance copy of a book he'd written, or written for, arrived as he took the package from her and began to rip it open. "You could've opened it, you know. I wouldn't mind."

"Oh no, I couldn't!" Ahiru shook her head. "It's your book, you wrote it, you should open it!"

"I wrote part of it," Fakir corrected her. "It's a collection of stories, remember?"

"Well, yours is obviously the most important one." Ahiru giggled as she saw him blush a little. "It is to me, anyway." She walked around to stand beside him and peered at the cover. It had a picture of a rose and a glass slipper on it, with the title and the list of contributing authors laid over it. She traced her finger over Fakir's name, a look of pride in her eyes. "What kind of story did you write for this one?"

"I was asked to do a modern day retelling of a fairy tale." Fakir sat down at the table to flip through it, and Ahiru sank into the chair beside him, scooting over to sit closer. "I went a slightly different path from the others and wove together a few different ones. I thought the editors were going to be angry, but they liked the idea."

"Oooh, that sounds neat!" Ahiru leaned over, resting her head against his arm as she watched him look through the book. "Was it hard to do?"

"Not at all." Fakir shook his head. "If anything, it was the easiest one yet. That's what happens when you grow up actually living in a modern fairy tale."

"Oh yeah, that's true." Ahiru sat back and wiped at the smudge on her nose with her apron. "It's kinda funny, cause we've read all those books where there's magic and fairies and stuff in the modern day world only most people don't know it, but it actually is like that. Kinda. I mean, Drosselmeyer's gone and everything and there's no more animal people in the town but you can still use your powers cause I'm here and that one writer we really like is probably a Spinner too, right?"

"Yeah." Fakir set the book down on the table and slid it over to Ahiru. "Have you eaten lunch yet?"

Ahiru shook her head. "I was waiting for you."

"You didn't have to. Thanks, though." He headed towards the sink to wash his hands. "Sit and relax, I'll fix us something."

"Okay!" Ahiru traced her finger over the shiny cover again. It always gave her a special thrill to see Fakir's name in print like this, to know that other people were going to get to enjoy his wonderful stories. Just like in their Academy days, he still had fans, though these didn't bother him so much. For one thing, they were interested in his work, which he seemed to understand better than those who had clamored to date him. It was entirely different, despite being similar on the surface. "Anyway, um, what kind of setting did you use for your story?"

"I used this place – and some of the people we know – as a basis." He dried his hands and rolled up his sleeves, his eyes focused on the little toy witch Ahiru had put in the kitchen window. Despite not being a big fan of scary stories, she loved decorating for Halloween with cute things, like her little homemade ghosts, and the few store-bought things she'd picked up too. She liked having candy and special treats too, and always made him sing the ballad of Tam Lin to her. "Which isn't to say that I dislike settings where they have a sort of 'timeless' feel to them, but that wasn't what the anthology editors were looking for."

"Really?" Ahiru looked excited. "Who did you use as characters?"

"Why would I tell you before you've even read it?" He glanced at the cookies she'd made, smiling slightly to himself at the way she'd decorated them. Her efforts would never be award-winning, but she _tried_. He almost wished he'd been there, just because her look of intense concentration was so adorable. "That would spoil it."

"That's true! I do want it to be a surprise!" Ahiru swung her legs back and forth under the table. "Um, when do I get to read it?"

"Whenever you want. That's why I left it there for you; go ahead and get started now if you'd like."

"Really? It's really okay?" Ahiru gingerly lifted the book up and stared at the cover. "I mean, it's so nice and shiny and new and what if I accidentally get something on the pages or rip them or something and I ruin your copy?"

"Our copy," he corrected her. "And don't worry so much about that. What's the point of a book that doesn't get read?"

"I guess. Okay." Ahiru gave the cover one last reverent stroke, over the loopy embossed font bearing Fakir's name, and then opened it up. She went first to the table of contents and located his story, but stuck her finger in the book to mark her place while she found the dedications page at the front. And sure enough, there it was: "For Ahiru". He dedicated everything he wrote to her, and it made her so happy every time she saw it. It was always just that, "For Ahiru", never anything flowery or mushy, but she didn't mind at all. She knew exactly what he was saying in those two words, and didn't need anything else.

She read happily as Fakir prepared their meal, so absorbed in the story that she failed to notice that he frequently peeked at her to see her reactions. He looked often enough, in fact, that it was a minor miracle that he didn't make some sort of mistake with the food. It was always nerve-wracking for him whenever she read a story of his for the first time, despite that she had yet to dislike one. He was always afraid she would, though, and feared seeing disappointment on her face.

He relaxed, though, as he saw her smile and laugh and gasp by turns, or frown at what he assumed were the right places. Ahiru recognized the characters for who they'd been based on – such as herself as the brave heroine, Lilie as her wicked stepsister, Rue as her kind stepsister, Mr. Cat as a Puss in Boots like figure, Uzura as a helpful little fairy – and was delighted by each one. She could also recognize plot elements from various fairy tales, thanks to all the stories she and Fakir had read together over the years, and marveled at the way he'd seamlessly woven them together. When she finally set the book down, she was beaming, and Fakir was pretending not to look at her as he brought over their lunch.

"So, what did you think?" he asked as she closed the book. He was trying to sound casual, but there was always something so shy about his voice whenever he asked her that at the end of a new tale, and it made her heart swell with affection for him.

"I loved it, of course!" Ahiru sprang up and hugged him just as he set down their drinks. He just barely managed to avoid spilling them. "What else would I think of it?"

"I – I don't know." He was turning red again. "You could always –"

"Don't say I could hate it," Ahiru interrupted. She let go of him so they could both sit down. "Cause I couldn't, not ever." She moved the book well out of the way of their food, not wanting to spill anything on it by accident. "A-and you better read it to me later, okay? Cause it always sounds even better when you do that."

Fakir nodded, his face still a little pink. "Yeah." It was a tradition of theirs, held over from when she'd been a duck and he read to her every night.

"And, um…" It was Ahiru's turn to blush and look shy. "I – I don't know if I've ever said so, but… but it means a lot to me how you always dedicate them to me. Thank you."

Fakir reached out and took her hand under the table. "You know why I do that, right?"

Ahiru smiled at him so radiantly he couldn't help but smile back at her. "Of course."


	4. Chapter 4

**Entry #4 - Balance**

Ahiru opened her eyes at the slight creak of the door as Fakir walked in carefully balancing a tray full of food. She couldn't help but wonder how he'd managed to safely bring something like that upstairs without spilling or breaking anything, but then, it was Fakir – he had always been much more graceful and coordinated than she was. She'd heard that most dancers were actually more on the clumsy side when not dancing, like she was, and had even seen it in action, but Fakir seemed to be an exception to that rule.

"Were you asleep?" Fakir asked as he carefully set the tray down on the bed.

"No." Ahiru shook her head. "Just resting my eyes a little."

"It's understandable if you're tired." He moved to sit beside her on their bed. "It's been a long day."

"It wasn't all bad, though," Ahiru said as she sat up straight, wincing only a little as she moved her legs. "Until I fell, I was having a lot of fun!"

"I know. Be more careful next time, though," Fakir gently chided her.

"I – I know!" Ahiru's cheeks flushed a little with embarrassment. "It – it's not my fault the ice is so slippery! I just lost my balance, a-and anyway the doctor said my ankle isn't broken, and it'll be fine soon, so it's no big deal."

"No, it's not serious this time, but it could've been worse," he reminded her. "I don't want you getting badly injured, so try to watch out next time."

Ahiru's mortified expression softened into a small smile. "I know. I will. And you be careful too, okay? I don't want anything to happen to you either."

"I will." He leaned over to kiss her temple, producing a happy little giggle from her. "Let's eat now, before it gets cold."

Ahiru frowned slightly as she looked at the tray for the first time and saw that he'd brought food for the both of them, not just her. "U-um, but – Fakir – wouldn't it be easier for you to eat at the table downstairs? N-not that I mind you being up here with me, I don't mind, I mean I like it, I mean – but – I – I just don't want you to inconvenience yourself on my account, and –"

"It's fine," Fakir interrupted her. "I'd rather be here. Unless you want to be alone?"

"N-no!" Ahiru shook her head. "I just don't want it to be hard on you, you know?"

"It's not. So don't worry about it. All right?"

"O-okay…"

Fakir had brought up a simple meal for them of soup and bread, with hot tea to drink, and for dessert some of the Christmas cookies they'd baked together earlier that day. They'd spent the morning doing that, and then after cleaning up and having lunch had headed out to do some shopping and sightseeing, which had happily occupied the better part of the afternoon until Ahiru's accident. No matter how many years passed, the magic of the season with its abundant snow, bright lights, and festive decorations never seemed lost on her. She took an almost childlike delight in it every year, and Fakir couldn't help but take joy in watching her enjoy herself. The holiday itself had no religious significance to him – he'd never been much of a believer – but it had gained no small amount of emotional importance now that he had Ahiru to share it with. Having been a duck, rather than growing up as a human child with family traditions and years of memories to associate with it, she had little real grasp on the theological reasons behind it all, but simply enjoyed all the fun trappings – the baked goods, the decorations, the joy of giving and receiving gifts with the people you loved, and so many other things – for themselves. It was natural, he thought, that her delight in it should be childlike, given that she had not had a human childhood and thus many human things were still fresh for her. Whatever the reason, though, it made her happy, and that was enough for both of them.

"These came out pretty good!" Ahiru said as she swallowed a mouthful of cookie. "Thanks so much for helping me, I still kinda mess up sometimes and you're so much better than me and I really wanted these to be good. They came out great cause of you."

"Don't sell yourself short," Fakir said as he reached for one. "You were just as much a participant in the process as I was. They're a success because we worked together on them."

"You think so?" Ahiru blushed a little. "Y-yeah, I guess we do make a pretty good team… but then, we always have."

"Mmmm. Yeah."

"It's kinda funny, though," Ahiru said thoughtfully. "I don't know if I ever told you, but one time back then Edel suggested I work together with someone to help Mytho, but things with us were still so… well, I didn't even consider working with you cause I thought I had to work against you… but she showed me this gem she had, she called it Courage, she was always showing me gems that had weird names but anyway… it was a necklace with two hearts joined and I didn't think about it back then but now I wonder about it cause that kinda happened with us, didn't it?"

Fakir always wondered how it was that she could speak in such lengthy sentences without pausing for breath, but then again he had to admit – to himself, at least – that it was cute. "I suppose it did." He smiled at her.

"And what's really funny is," Ahiru continued, "That was the day you found me in your locker and you took me outside and gave me bread. And it was cause you were nice to me that time that I went up to you that other time as a duck when you had the pendant, and part of how I knew it'd be okay if I let you know that I was really a duck." She paused to finish her cookie, and washed it down with some tea before starting to talk again. "I wonder if she was trying to get us to work together cause she knew more about us than we did about each other and thought it would work… like if she wanted us to go against what Drosselmeyer wanted or something."

"Maybe." Fakir shrugged. "I didn't know her; I only met her a couple times before…" He trailed off, his mind wandering to that night and the fire that had kept his injured body warm after he'd been fished out of the lake. He shook himself out of the reminiscence and continued. "It could have been a coincidence. It's hard to say."

"Yeah, I guess. I did always have a hard time telling what she was thinking." Ahiru took another cookie and ate some of it. "I just wonder about that kind of stuff sometimes. Our lives have been so weird that I can't help it. I mean, technically we're kind of impossible, you know?" She glanced down at herself, at the human body Fakir had returned to her after the story's end. "When you think about it, I'm not really supposed to be like this and some people would say it's weird for us to be together like this."

"Do you think it's weird?" Fakir frowned at her. He'd never heard her talk like this before. "Do you… ever miss being a duck?"

"Oh, no! Oh please, don't think that!" Ahiru looked up at him with wide eyes and shook her head. "I mean, okay, it could be considered weird, but I don't really know what's supposed to be normal either, and if I have a choice I'd rather be weird and happy, you know? I don't wanna go back to being a duck cause I'm so happy with you. And as long as you're okay with knowing I used to be a duck and it doesn't bother you, then it doesn't bother me." Her fingers tightened a bit on the cookie, sending crumbs onto the tray. "It – it doesn't bother you, does it? I mean, I know you've never thought less of me for being just a duck and you never treated me any different after you found out, but – but did it ever make you think things like… 'oh, this is weird, I'm in love with a duck, that's kinda weird, ew'?"

"No." Fakir shook his head. "It was weird to realize I was feeling those things at all, for anyone, but the fact that you were a duck never entered into it. Not like that."

"Oh. Um. H-how did it enter into it, then?" Ahiru swallowed, feeling somehow nervous of the answer.

"When you became one permanently, of course." He reached over and brushed some loose hair away from her face. "You know that."

"Oh! Oh yeah." Ahiru relaxed at that. "Although, um… what would you have done if I'd wanted to keep being a duck?"

"I wouldn't have transformed you, if that's what you're wondering," Fakir said as he polished off another cookie. "And I still would've kept my promise, you don't have to worry about that."

"No, I know that, I know you wouldn't have done that to me or left me, I just, I mean…" Ahiru gulped. "Would – would you ever have… have moved on?" She twisted the blanket in her hands. "A-and found somebody else to l-love?"

"… I don't know if I could have," Fakir said honestly as he watched her. He'd read at least one story where a couple had ended up in the same situation, only they hadn't had the option of returning humanity to the other person, like they had. The human halves of the pairs had tended to never be able to move on and marry someone else, and he found it all too plausible that he would've ended up the same way had Ahiru rejected the opportunity to become human again. He knew he'd love her all his life, and he doubted that her form would ever have changed that. "I don't think that would've happened."

"That wouldn't really have been fair to you, though." Ahiru looked sadly up at him. "You deserve to be happy."

"And I am now. Isn't that what matters?" He smiled at her again. "Don't worry so much about what might have been. We are what we are, and we have each other, and we're happy. That's what's important."

"Y-yeah, I guess you're right." Ahiru smiled at him.

They finished their dessert, and then Fakir took the tray back downstairs. He piled the dishes in the sink, figuring he'd wash them tomorrow. Usually he got them done right away, but he had a feeling that after the day they'd had, Ahiru might fall asleep before he got back upstairs, and he wanted some more time with her tonight before she did. Anyone else might have just shrugged and decided that they'd just talk the next day if that happened, but after all they'd been through just to survive the story and then to be together, it had never occurred to Fakir to take her for granted in even the smallest ways.

He caught her yawning as he reentered their bedroom, confirming his suspicions. "That was fast," she said.

Fakir shrugged. "I can wash it all tomorrow. It's not that important." He crossed the room to the wardrobe, and began to change into his sleep clothes. Watching him undress, Ahiru felt a jolt of regret over her sore ankle and the exhaustion slowly creeping up on her.

Nevertheless, when he climbed into bed beside her, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him deeply. He leaned into it, slipping his arm around her shoulders to gently pull her closer, his other hand moving to her waist. She sighed at his touch, and slid one of her hands up to thread her fingers into his hair as they kept kissing.

"Sorry we can't do anything else cause of my foot," she mumbled when they finally broke apart.

"Don't be silly, you don't have to apologize for that." Fakir stroked her cheek with gentle fingers. "It's fine."

They continued to kiss for a little while before settling down with her head against his shoulder and their hands clasped together, and enjoyed a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Ahiru spoke up. "Um, do you think my ankle will be better by next week?"

"The doctor said it would as long as you're careful and don't do too much, so as long as you listen to her advice, you should be fine." Fakir rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. "I'll help you with whatever you need, don't worry."

"Okay, good! Cause I don't want to miss going to see The Nutcracker with you, I'm so excited about it cause we've never gone before, I know we've performed in it at the academy and you were so good and I still can't believe I got to be Clara and we got to dance together, but we've never gotten to see someone else do it so it's really exciting, especially cause it's the Eleki Troupe, and I know you can't return the tickets so that's important too…" Ahiru paused, and bit her lip. "I – I just… I just wish…"

Fakir frowned. "You just wish what?"

"That… that we could take Uzura with us." Ahiru's voice shook. "I – I think she'd really like it, you know? And I wish she could've seen us dance it together, she would've liked that too. She never did get to see us dance, not even once…"

"… I know." Fakir squeezed her hand. "I miss her too." It hadn't occurred to him back then that she might leave when the story ended, and then she'd just vanished, with none of them getting a chance to say goodbye. He'd looked for her for a while, thinking that maybe she'd just wandered off again, but he'd eventually had to accept that she wasn't coming back. It had been harder on him than he'd perhaps expected, between the shock of her disappearance and the sudden void left by her absence. As annoying as she could be at times, he had nevertheless been very fond of her, to the point where he'd subconsciously begun to think of her as the younger sister he'd never had as a child (a thing he'd only consciously realized once she was gone).

"Every year, I…" Ahiru's voice cracked as the tears began to fall onto her cheeks. "Every year, on Christmas morning, I check that stocking we always hang for her to see if she's taken the little presents I put in it for her, but they're always still there. Even so, I – I haven't given up hope that one year she'll have come to visit us, or that she'll just pop back in someday." She lifted her head to look up at Fakir. "Do you – do you think we'll ever see her again?"

"I… I don't know if it's possible," he admitted. He didn't want to lie to her. "But I'd like to hope we will," he added. And he meant it. Years ago, he would never have said such a thing, but Ahiru had taught him a lot about the value of hope, of not giving up on people. It had been a slow process, but she'd gradually lessened some of his pessimism and influenced him to hope more, to think better of himself and others. "If I could turn you back into a human, if some types of magic still do exist in this world despite that the story ended, then maybe she'll find a way back to us someday, even if only for a little while. I'm sure she misses us too, and wants to see us again."

"Y-yeah, you're right." Ahiru sniffled a little, but also smiled through her tears as she leaned her head against Fakir's shoulder again. It somehow made her feel better to know that Fakir missed Uzura too, that she wasn't alone in her feelings, that he wanted to hope for her return and thought it might actually be possible. He'd always been so good at comforting her and making her feel stronger even when things seemed hopeless; it was one of the many things she loved about him.

They fell silent again after that, content to simply sit beside each other and hold hands while the snow continued to fall outside their window. Fakir was just beginning to wonder if Ahiru was starting to drift away when a sound from outside the house caught their attention. A group of carolers was passing by, and Ahiru lifted her head to better listen to them.

"They sound like they're having fun," she commented as she snuggled back down against him. "I kinda wish I could do that, but I can't with my ankle like this and I can't sing anyway. People would probably throw fruit or something at me when they heard me."

Fakir shook his head. "I don't think anyone actually does that in real life. And besides, it's really not that fun. You wind up with a sore throat no matter what you do, and when it gets dark it's too cold to really enjoy it, and then of course it gets boring too. I'd rather be in here with you, where it's warm."

"You say that like you've done it before." She yawned again. "Did somebody take you when you were little?"

"… Yeah. My parents dragged me along a few times, and it was always fun at the beginning, but I got tired of it by the end. Raetsel made me go with her once too, and had me bring Mytho. That went about as well as you could expect." He scowled a little at the memory. "So it really wasn't my favorite holiday tradition."

"Yeah, that makes sense." She squeezed his hand. "I – I really like how you sing the different songs, though, you have such a nice voice. Do you – do you think you could sing one for me now?" she asked shyly. "Just so I can make-believe? I – I mean, I wouldn't ask you to go and do something you hate like that, but… but well… I don't know, I just like listening to you, is all. S-so if you don't mind…"

Fakir kissed the top of her head. "Not at all."

He began to sing to her then, softly, and by the time he was finished with the song, her eyes were closed and her breathing was deep and even. He looked down at her for a moment, smiling, before carefully letting go of her hand and gently moving her so that she was lying in a more comfortable position. She didn't wake up – Ahiru had always been an extraordinarily sound sleeper – but she shifted slightly and made the small chirpy noise he'd gotten used to from her days as a duck. It was one of a few things about her that seemed to have been held over from that form and reminded him of the tiny duckling she'd once been. He found every single one cute and endearing.

Having finished moving her and pulling the blankets over her sleeping form, he brushed some of her hair away from her face and tenderly kissed her cheek. "Goodnight, Ahiru," he murmured, and he thought he saw her mouth curve in a small smile before he turned the light out and settled himself down beside her, taking her hand once more as he closed his eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Entry #5 - Cloth**

Christmas Eve brought with it a heavy snowfall; as the day drew to a close it was cold and dark outside, but in Fakir and Ahiru's house all was warm and bright. A fire crackled in the fireplace, and the tiny lights they'd strung on their little tree were twinkling merrily, illuminating the ornaments they'd hung there. Many were store-bought things that Ahiru had taken a fancy to when they'd been out shopping, but a lot were homemade. Charon had given them the ones Fakir had made as a child, and even though Fakir had been mortified by them (he had never had any talent for art), she had nevertheless convinced him to keep them and hang them on their tree. And seeing his, she'd insisted on making some to hang beside them, because she'd never gotten a chance to as a child. For all her hopes and ambitions, they hadn't come out much better than his, but still got a place on the tree anyway. In the end, they each liked each other's efforts more than they liked their own, and refused to let the other throw away anything they'd done, so everything wound up being hung and draped with tinsel. It meant that their tree didn't look anything like the pretty ones in magazine ads and store displays, but it did look uniquely theirs.

Ahiru was sitting in front of the fireplace admiring their tree when Fakir came in from washing the dinner dishes. His eyes fell on the presents in front of her that he recognized as being the ones they had gotten for each other. "You didn't peek, did you?" he asked, a note of mock sternness in his voice.

"Of course not!" Ahiru stuck her tongue out at him and then giggled. "I want it to be a surprise!"

"I know." Fakir sat down beside her and kissed her cheek before letting his arm settle around her shoulders. "Go on and open yours."

"Really?" She looked up at him with wide eyes. "It's really okay if I open mine first?"

"Of course." He nodded. "I know how excited you are, so just go ahead."

She frowned a little. "Does that mean you're not excited about yours?"

"Of course not. Don't be silly." He squeezed her shoulder. "It just means that I also want to see what you think of what I got for you. Don't you feel that way too?"

"Well… yeah," Ahiru admitted. "Okay, I understand that. I'll open mine first then, since that's how it is!"

"Good."

Ahiru reached for the present that was labeled as being for her from Fakir. Her stomach did an uncomfortable somersault as she looked at both of them again. She knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't help but compare them and find hers wanting. He'd wrapped hers nice and neat, with a perfect little bow, and her name was written on the tag in his beautiful handwriting. She, meanwhile, had never quite gotten the hang of wrapping presents, so the paper was bulging in some places and wrinkled in others, his name was written in her usual messy scrawl, and when she'd attempted to curl the ends of the bow with a pair of scissors like Raetsel had shown her, the ribbon had ended up limp and barely wavy, and she'd cut her fingers besides. Fakir had bandaged them up for her (she hadn't liked the antiseptic he'd put on first, but she _had_ liked how he'd gently kissed her bandaged fingers "to make them feel better") and wiped her tears away while she explained what she'd been trying to do, and he'd assured her that her present looked fine, that it was what was on the inside that mattered since they were just going to throw away the wrapping paper and ribbons anyway, but it didn't stop her from feeling inadequate when their efforts were side by side like this. Especially when she wasn't so sure about the quality of what was inside, either.

She carefully undid the paper, not wanting to rip or tear Fakir's handiwork despite that she knew that it would only end up in the trash bin later, and slid the bow off to set aside on the rug. Fakir picked it up and set it on her head like a tiara, and she giggled. Underneath the wrapping paper was a yellow cardboard box, and she lifted the lid off and pulled back the tissue paper inside to reveal the present Fakir had gotten her. She gasped as she saw it. "Oh! Oh, Fakir, it's…"

"Do you like it?" He sounded more nervous than she thought he should be, but she didn't have the heart to call him silly for it, and besides, she was distracted by the gift before her.

"It's beautiful…" Ahiru lifted it carefully out of the box, a look of reverence on her face. It was a white hair snood, crocheted in some pretty, intricate pattern, with tiny blue pearls dotting it.

"You're always admiring stuff like this, so I thought I'd get you one of your own." Fakir reached up and stroked her hair. "I'm glad you like it."

"Thank you… it's so pretty…" She clutched it to her chest and leaned her chin on her hands. "Kinda too pretty for me, really, but –"

"What?" Fakir shook his head. "That's not true. Why would you think something like that?"

"Well… you know…" Ahiru swallowed past the little lump in her throat. "I'm – I'm not really…"

"Yes, you are." Fakir kissed the top of her head. "And it'll look perfect on you. So stop worrying."

"O-okay." Ahiru carefully laid it back down in the box and set it down. "I – I'll try." She picked up her gift for Fakir, and put it on his lap, her stomach twisting into a knot again. "A-anyway… here's your present…" Her hands shook a little, and she hid them in her lap, hoping he wouldn't notice.

The tag was the first thing that caught Fakir's eye: whereas he had written a simple "To Ahiru, from Fakir" on the one he'd stuck on her present, Ahiru had written "To Fakir, with lots of love from Ahiru". He'd never been good at filling out cards and tags like this, but she'd come to be more comfortable with it, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt that he was still letting himself be held back by little things like that sometimes. He took the tag off carefully and set it aside before tearing the paper off the little white box she'd used to put his gift in. He recognized it as being from a pack of boxes they'd purchased the year before, rather than one from a specific store, as his gift to her had been in.

Lifting the lid and pulling back the slightly wrinkled tissue paper – Ahiru had clearly had trouble folding it right – revealed a sweater in a rich, deep shade of green. He pulled it out and held it up, noting how soft it was before seeing that one sleeve was a little longer than the other, and the shorter sleeve had something of an odd shape to it. The neckline looked strange too, and he could see a couple of dropped stitches here and there.

"It's awful!" Ahiru burst out, before he could even say anything. Seeing it in his hands now, it somehow looked even worse than it had when she'd folded it and laid it in the box. "I'm so sorry! I know it's ugly…" She could feel tears coming on and she bowed her head both to hide them and because she couldn't bear to look at what she'd wrought. "I'm sorry… this was a bad idea, just throw it away, and I – I'll get you something else, it'll be late but at least you'll have something nice instead of this…"

"Huh? Why would I throw away something you put so much work into, and waste all your effort?" Fakir frowned. "That's a stupid idea."

"S-so was making this. And I'm s-stupid for doing it…" Try as she might, Ahiru couldn't hold back the tears any longer. "I'm so stupid…"

"What? Ahiru, no." Fakir set the sweater down and put his arm around her again. "You're not. And wanting to make something for someone isn't stupid either."

"It is if you're t-terrible at it!" She let out a little sob against one of her hands. "I – I mean, I've only really tried knitting little things before and they weren't that good, and I should've iknown/i it was too early for me to try making something big like this, and she itold/i me I should work up to it more slowly but I didn't listen because I really am an idiot, I know you don't mean it like that when you say it so I don't mind but I actually really am one cause I just plowed ahead as usual without thinking properly about it and it came out so hideous and you got me something so pretty and now you get this in return and I'm just… I'm the worst…"

"Stop it." Fakir took her other hand and gently squeezed it. "You're not an idiot, and you're not the worst."

"Yes, I am, I –"

"No. You're not." He hated hearing her talk about herself like this, but he also knew that it wasn't helpful to say so. He rubbed his fingers over her palm and thought for a moment. "Why don't you tell me about why you wanted to do this, what inspired you to?"

Ahiru hiccupped. "How come?"

"Because I want to know. Don't you always ask me similar questions about why I wrote a story this way or that?"

"I – I guess." She swallowed. "W-well, I wanted to make it for you cause… cause I wanted to do something special and different for you. I didn't want to just get you more ink or another notebook or a book or something like that because that's too easy and not really creative and I wanted to get you something unique that you couldn't get anywhere else. And I was trying really hard to think of something like that and I was having so much trouble and it was so frustrating but then I went shopping that one day with Raetsel, to the crafts store, cause she needed to get some stuff for things she was making and that's how I thought of it." She hiccupped again and he had to try not to smile fondly at it, because her hiccups always sounded like quacks. "She told me she'd show me how and give me an easy pattern, but that it still might be too advanced and I should wait to try something so big till I'd practiced on more little things, but I insisted cause I thought… I don't know… I guess I thought I needed to make you something big and I thought I could do it and I really wanted to surprise you and make you happy, but I messed it up." Her shoulders shook as a fresh wave of tears threatened. "I'm so sorry…"

"There's nothing to be sorry for." Fakir shook his head and gave her hand another squeeze. "It's your first try, and no one turns out perfection on their first try. Do you think the first story I ever wrote was good? It wasn't. But that doesn't make first tries worthless – the opposite, really. You have to start somewhere, and if you don't start at all, you can never be good at whatever it is you're giving up on."

"I – I know that, but…" Ahiru sniffled. "I just… I really wanted to make you something nice that you could wear, you know?"

"I don't see why I can't wear it." Fakir let go of her and held up the sweater again. "It looks like the right size."

"But it also looks horrible!" Ahiru shook her head. "You can't wear something like that!"

"Really? Let's see." Fakir pulled the sweater on over his head, ignoring the gasp of horror from Ahiru. Just as he'd thought, it fit him, even if it hung a little oddly in places and the neckline was uneven. It was soft and comfortable, though, and knowing that she'd made it somehow made it seem even warmer. "See? I told you it was the right size."

"Yeah, but…" Her freckled little nose crinkled, and her mouth formed a tiny pout. "It still looks weird. Not cause of you, cause of how I made it," she added hastily.

"I don't care. No, I really don't," he said, cutting her off as she opened her mouth to protest. He shook his head. "It fits and it's comfortable and it'll keep me warm. That's all that matters. But, if you really feel so strongly about it, I'll only wear it around the house. Is that an acceptable compromise?"

"No – I mean, yes – I mean – you can wear it wherever you want," Ahiru mumbled. She wasn't any prouder of her handiwork than she had been a minute ago, but she couldn't help but be embarrassed now that he'd said that. Ever since she'd met him, Fakir had always cared more about if a shirt was comfortable and covered his birthmark than how it looked, to the point of hanging onto more than one long after it should have been thrown out, simply because it still met both criteria. In light of that it seemed a little silly to have worried that he'd be reluctant to wear a sweater she made him, even if it was poorly made.

Fakir studied her face, not sure what to make of her expression. "You're all right now, then?" he asked quietly, cupping her chin in his hand. He hated seeing her cry, especially if he was responsible in some way for it, even indirectly like this. "You're not upset anymore?"

Ahiru shook her head. "I – I still wish it looked better, but – but if you really do like it, then that's all that matters."

"I do." He slipped his arms around her and held her close, leaning his head against hers. "I told you, it's very comfortable."

"Th-that's good, cause I tried to pick a really soft yarn," Ahiru said. "I didn't want it to be all scratchy and rough, you know? A-and I chose the color cause it reminded me of your eyes, and you have such beautiful eyes that I thought it would look good on you and bring them out."

"Mmmm." He could feel his face growing warm – compliments from Ahiru always made him blush a little. It didn't seem to matter how many years they'd been together at this point, she still had that effect on him. "You made a good choice."

"I – I'm glad." Ahiru smiled and snuggled closer to him. "I'm sorry I got so upset before, I just… really wanted to give you something special."

"It's all right. And it _is_ special." Fakir kissed the top of her head again. "Thank you."

"Y-you're welcome!"

As they sat there quietly, Fakir's mind drifted, back to when they'd been together a short amount of time. One morning, Ahiru had acted strange, rushing back up to get something she'd supposedly forgotten, only to "find" it when she came back down, and do a poor job of pretending like she hadn't known it was there all along. He'd tried to get her to explain what was going on, but she'd attempted to change the subject, and he'd let her because he figured that if she didn't want to talk about it, that was her business.

Later, when they'd come home from the Academy, she'd stayed in the kitchen to have a snack while he went upstairs to change and start in on his homework. Something on his desk had caught his eye while he was doing that, and closer inspection revealed that it was an envelope with his name written on it in Ahiru's handwriting. Intrigued, he'd sat down to open it and found that inside was a love letter. It hadn't been at all flowery, like the fake one that friend of hers had written during the story, nor was it what anyone would call eloquent; it was a little bit clumsy and awkward in places, just like she was. But the strength and sincerity of her feelings had shone through nevertheless, and so it was beautiful to him. When he was done reading it, he'd finished changing his clothes before stepping out of his room to find her just coming up the stairs. They'd stared at each other for a moment, and then he'd pulled her close and simply held her tightly, not speaking until she asked him if he'd found the letter and he murmured a confirmation. She'd then explained that she'd been wanting to write a real one to him for a while now, partly to make up for the disappointment she now knew he must have felt when he learned that that first one had been a fake, but mostly to try and express her feelings for him in the written word. She'd written him others since (and he'd written her back, each one of them painfully awkward in his eyes but treasured by her nonetheless), and he kept them all in a particular drawer in his writing desk.

This sweater was like those letters, like her Christmas ornaments, like every other thing Ahiru had ever crafted, like Ahiru herself: full of love and warmth and honest effort that clearly showed through despite any awkwardness or clumsiness. She wasn't as good at getting her thoughts out as she had been as Princess Tutu, and she tended to stumble over her words and stammer and babble and ramble, but he always understood exactly what she was struggling to say. Her creative efforts were imperfect, but no amount of flaws in the execution could hide the love and care that had gone into making them. Rejecting something she'd put that wonderful, sweet heart of hers into making for him out of a wish for his happiness was unthinkable.

"What are you thinking about?" Ahiru murmured suddenly, jolting him a little.

"You," he said softly. "I don't want you to worry about things like this anymore… I don't need you to be perfect, or get everything right. I just need you to be you."

"I do mess a lot of stuff up, though." Ahiru stared down at his arms where they were wrapped around her. "I'm still not so good at cooking, and I drop things and spill things and I'm always tripping or walking into walls, I mean, I did most of the sweater while my foot was hurt… I'm really bad at a lot of stuff…"

"Then just practice until you get better at things." Fakir shrugged. "I don't mind any of it as long as you're happy. Be your real self and do things your way, whatever that means; I'll still be here no matter what."

Tears brimmed anew in Ahiru's eyes, and so her voice was a little hoarse when she finally trusted herself to speak. "I know… thank you…"

Once upon a time, back when she'd only just become a human for the first time, and had to use a pendant made of a piece of a storybook prince's heart to do so, Ahiru had firmly believed in her own heart that no one would ever love her like this. After all, she was just a duck, and even when she was human she was weird, and clumsy, and awkward in so many ways. She didn't, in her opinion, have the beauty or talent that girls like Rue or Freya possessed. Despite transforming into Princess Tutu, she lacked in her other forms the grace and poise of her image of what a real princess should be. She was nothing but a fraud, a mere duck playing dress-up. And though she didn't expect to gain the love of the prince she worked so hard to save or seek it as a reward for her efforts, and was happy in the end that he had chosen Rue, she was nevertheless plagued by loneliness and the persistent belief that she was unlovable as she really was.

But then one day Fakir had admitted that he was in love with her. Fakir, the person who had once been her enemy, but had grown into being first her best friend and then her dearest love without her being fully aware, initially, of the changes taking place in her heart. That he should love her as deeply as she loved him meant the world to her. Even now it still felt a bit unreal sometimes, almost too good to be true. Part of her wondered if she deserved to be this happy. She'd said as much to him once, and he'd immediately assured her that she did. He had also confided that he too had once thought that what they had now was something that just wasn't in his future, and not just because he used to believe that he didn't even have a future. He too still wondered if he deserved it, and he didn't have to explain to her why he would think that way. So she'd held him tightly and told him that there was no doubt in her mind that he deserved it just as much as he thought she did. He hadn't had much to say to that, but she could tell it meant a lot to him to hear.

They remained by the fire until it was little more than smoldering embers, periods of silence interspersed with quiet chatter or physical affection or both. By the time they went upstairs to bed, Ahiru found that she was a bit more at peace with the sweater she'd made for him, and that she actually liked how it looked on him, flaws and all. In the days and weeks to come she would experience some initial worries that he was only wearing it to spare her feelings, but he wore it often enough that it soon became clear that he really did like it. That made her happy, and so in time she came to love it, simply because he did.


End file.
